


Never Felt Young

by ArsenicPanther



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man: Homecoming
Genre: Addiction, Angst, Blood and Injury, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, I use too much italics, Irondad, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker Whump, Peter needs therapy, References to Addiction, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart, light fluff at the end but it’s like very minimal, self harm is an addiction, spiderson, this is mostly sad bruh hours
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-01
Updated: 2019-09-01
Packaged: 2020-10-04 17:34:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20474903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArsenicPanther/pseuds/ArsenicPanther
Summary: The urges won’t leave his head.(work edited 4/11/20)





	Never Felt Young

**Author's Note:**

> THIS WORK CONTAINS DESCRIPTIONS OF SELF HARM! BE SAFE, READ THE TAGS

It had been a rough day for Peter Parker. He’d woken up late (again), didn’t get the chance to say goodbye to May before she left for work, and had to sprint to Midtown High.

When he finally got to school, he rushed into his Spanish class only to quickly realize he’d completely forgotten about the project due that day. Peter sank down into his seat as his classmates turned their projects in at the teacher’s desk, desperately hoping to remain unnoticed.

_God, I’m such a fucking idiot!_

_Wait- no, I can’t be thinking like this!_ Peter straightens in his seat as the intrusive thoughts continue, morphing into a sinister voice.

_Why not? You forgot your project. You’re probably going to fail this class, and then everyone will know just how much of a useless idiot you are._

_...And now I’m talking to myself in my own head._

Great. To put the cherry on top of the nightmare sundae, he also had to ignore the intrusive thoughts and urges screaming at him. All. Day. Long.

_Cut._

At least it was a Friday... and Mr. Stark had invited him to stay the weekend at the compound!

Newly motivated, Peter spent the rest of the day daydreaming about the robotic spider he was planning to make when he got to the lab.

Now, though?

Peter stands at the counter in the lab, staring at the charred remains of the tiny robot. Mr. Stark had been stuck in a SI board meeting when Peter had gotten to the tower. Guided by FRIDAY to the private floors, Peter had thought it would be a good opportunity to impress the man, but it had quite literally blown up in his face.

Peter sighs and exits the lab, slumping into his room. It was already late when he got to the compound, courtesy of New York traffic, but now it’s the dead of night. Most of the rooms in the building are completely dark.

_This is a good opportunity, isn’t it? You want to destress, right?_

God.  
Fucking.  
DAMN IT.

_I’m just saying, nobody’s around right now, and you did put that pack of razors under your bathroom sink for this exact purpose. What’s the point of resisting it?_

“Peter? I’m picking up on elevated vitals and beginning signs of distress. Would you like me to contact Mr. Stark?” Peter jumps as the AI’s voice rings out into the quiet room.

“No! No thanks, FRIDAY. I’m just- gonna go.” He blurts, and slinks into the bathroom.

The second he locks the door, Peter is turning on the shower and rifling through the cabinet under the sink. Where did I- oh! He sits back on his knees, having unearthed the package of razors he’d buried under other toiletries.

_I shouldn’t do this._

_But I need to._

_I need to, I need to, I NEED-_

“-ter? Peter, I’m picking up on-“

“I’m FINE, FRIDAY!” He shouts. She goes silent again.

And now he feels guilty. FRIDAY was just doing her job, Peter didn’t need to snap at her like that!

God, he really _is_ a piece of shit.

And on second thought, these razors could be put to some good use.

Peter feels himself starting to check out of reality as he brings the blade to his arm with shaking hands.

Oh well. He needs this anyway.

He needs to do this.

Time wavers, and Peter blinks.

What

What has he done?

Peter drops the blade all at once. What did he do? Why’s there... it’s _everywhere_.

Red.

He’s really starting to hate that color.

There’s a puddle of blood pooling around him on the tiles and the smell of iron is overpowering. Peter giggles half-hysterically. _Look, I’m Iron Man!_

He looks again, smile dropping. He... That is way too much blood. It hurts, _God_ it hurts, and he half-crawls half-stumbles into the tub, wanting to wash the blood from his skin only to cringe away from the cold water battering his skin and soaking his clothes.

_Fuck, I’m making a mess,_ He thinks as he slips out of the tub, puddles of bloody water forming whenever he moves, and it’s _so cold._

FRIDAY is oddly quiet, but Peter fails to notice it over his own panic. His wounds are starting to heal already, but they’re _deep_ and they _hurt_ and he _swore_ he wouldn’t relapse, he promised and he broke it. _What kind of pathetic idiot is he?_ He’s breaking down in _Tony Stark_’s bathroom.

_I wonder if his meeting is over by now._

Peter’s awareness is fading.

He’s dissociating, he thinks, but he doesn’t care enough in his state to think very hard about it.

_What’s that noise?_ Peter turns to the door, and stares at it, puzzled. The knocking sounds again, but he can’t hear whoever’s on the other side of the door over the spray of the shower, so he doesn’t answer.

Not that it matters, since the person on the other side of the door seems to have decided to melt the doorknob off.

Tony had gotten a distress signal from FRIDAY right as he was walking back into the compound, the meeting finally over. She hadn’t said much, only that it was Peter and that he was in great distress, but that was enough to have Tony running across the building to Peter’s room.

His overactive brain had already run over nearly every worst-case scenario that could’ve happened. He’d expected everything.

Everything but this.

Peter slumped on the floor surrounded by blood, covered in obviously self-inflicted wounds, soaked to the skin with cold water, shower spraying past the half-open curtain to create more puddles.

Peter’s head snaps up, eyes hazy, muddled by a muted panic. “Mr... Stark?”

Tony can’t do anything but sink to the floor and pull Peter to him. Blood and cold water soaks into the fabric of his suit, but he can’t bring himself to care when _his kid_ is bleeding and shaking in his arms.

“I didn’t mean to... I- I swear, I didn’t mean to- I didn’t-“ Peter chokes out, starting to sob as he sinks back into himself and fully realizes what he’s done.

“Petey. Kid. Breathe, please breathe. I’m not mad.” Tony whispers, tightening his arms around the sobbing teenager, careful not to worsen his injuries. “Why did you do this to yourself? Why?”

“I just- I just had to, I don’t know, I needed to, I’m sorry,” Peter says, shivers wracking his body from the cold water as Tony slightly pulls away from him, eyes latching on something glinting on the tile.

Tony gingerly picks up the razor that’s been discarded on the floor and moves to drop it in the trash.

“No,” Peter grips his sleeve, all red-rimmed eyes and damp curls and desolate desperation. “Pl-please, I need- I need it!” He trembles and all Tony sees is _himself, grasping at a sleeve, the edge of a bottle_ and he breaks just a little more. _Hold it together for the kid, _Tony thinks, and god, when did _he_ become the responsible one?

“You don’t. You- you don’t need it, kid, you’re destroying yourself. Peter, I know- God, I know how addiction feels, okay? And I’m going to help you. I’ll get you therapy, anything you need. But kid, this... isn’t how you cope with things.”

“I’m... I’m not _addicted_,” Peter says, somehow even more frightened-looking than he was before, tuned in on the one part of Tony’s speech he feels threatened by, because he can stop anytime he wants, right? He’s Spider-Man. Superheroes don’t get addicted to things.

“Pete... Addiction isn’t a dirty word. Look, I’ve been through it too, and I’m Iron Man. Just because you’re a hero doesn’t mean you’re not human.”

“Wh- You ha- You have?” Peter stammers, still clinging onto the hem of Tony’s sleeve.

Tony huffs out a breath. “Yes, and it’s not something I’m proud of, but... I understand, okay? I know what you’re going through and I’m not mad at you. We’re going to get you help.”

Peter nods, staring at one of the buttons on Tony’s suit jacket. “...Thanks, Mr... Mr. Stark! I- Your suit- I’m sorry!”

“Wh- oh, this? Don’t worry about it.”

“But-“

“Don’t. You’re more important to me than a suit, okay?”

“Okay...”

Tony shifts, slowly standing and pulling Peter up with him. “Now, what do you say we blow this joint? Gotta getcha patched up.”

“Um, y-okay, yeah, I- Moving kinda- kinda hurts, Mr. Stark.”

Tony blinks at him, eyes widening in realization. “Shit, yeah, um... Alright, get on my back.”

“Wait, what?”

He rolls his eyes jokingly. “Come on, kid, it’s not everyday you get a piggyback ride from Iron Man himself.”

“Yeah, yeah, okay.”

They hobble up to the medical wing, guided through the mostly-dark compound by FRIDAY. Peter flops right off of Tony’s back onto a cot.

“Easy there kid, dont rough yourself up any more.” Tony calls, already rummaging through a cabinet for bandages and piling medical supplies on top of a stack of clean clothes. “Dr. Cho’s not available ‘til tomorrow.”

“Sorry.” Peter says, at least having the decency to look sheepish. “Just tired. Can I go change?”

“Yeah, I probably should too. Spare clothes over here, bathroom on the far side of the room. Don’t take too long.”

When Peter’s done changing, Tony’s already in a clean tee-shirt, sitting on the edge of the cot that Peter had claimed. “Come here kiddo, we need to get those wounds of yours cleaned up and dressed. Sit next to me.” Peter sits down, nervously perched at the edge of the cot as Tony pulls out a bottle of iodine. “I’m just gonna put some of this on you to make sure you don’t get an infection, alright?”

Peter gives him a jerky nod and holds out an arm, bracing himself as Tony dips a cotton ball in the fluid and brings it to his arm.

“Oh! That didn’t hurt!”

“It’s alcohol-free,” Tony says, holding up the bottle, “So it doesn’t damage the tissue. At least, that’s what the elusive doctor told me.” He pulls out a box of bandages and starts wrapping them around Peter’s arm.

“Oh. Cool.”

Tony cuts the end of the bandage and attaches it. “Alright, all done for today. You should get some rest, kid. We can talk about therapy and stuff tomorrow. Does your aunt know about this?”

Peter stares at his lap. “Um, yeah, but she thinks I stopped.”

“Alright, well... You need to let her know, okay? She’s on your side, Pete.”

“Okay, um... Can you help me tell her, though?”

“Of course, kid. I just... have one question for you. I asked earlier, but I don’t think you really heard me.”

Peter looks up, tensing slightly. “What is it?”

Tony sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “Why did you do this to yourself?”

”I...” Peter looks down again, the corners of his eyes giving a telltale sting. _Don’t cry._ ”It’s because I’m a bad person.” He chokes out. From his peripheral vision he can see Tony’s posture stiffen, and he shrinks in on himself.

”Kid... Peter. That’s not true. That’s absolutely not true.” Tony says, his voice strained.

”But, I’m always messing everything up! I forget things and I talk weird and I’m not smart enough and-!”

Tony interrupts his ramblings with a firm hand on the shoulder.

”Look at me. Peter, you’re one of the best people, if not _the _best person I know. You’ve got stronger morals than Captain America and that’s no small feat. You juggle being a superhero with being a honor-roll student at an advanced school. You worm your way into everyone you meet’s heart, you’re just that lovable. It’s okay to mess up and forget things. Everyone does that, kid, even the ones you think are perfect. You are _not_ a bad person, and you deserve every good thing that comes your way.”

Peter hiccups, unshed tears finally making their way down his face. “Didn’t take you as the speech kinda guy, Mr. Stark.”

Tony smirks. “I think after that I’ve earned the right to be called Tony.”

Peter grins, shaking his head. “Alright... Tony.”

Tony hesitates, then pulls the boy into a hug. Peter’s eyes grow wide. “You’re hugging me? For real this time?”

“Yes, for real. Come on kid, don’t leave me hanging here.”

Peter wraps his arms around Tony and returns the embrace, hiding a smile in his shoulder. “Thank you, Tony.” 

“Anything for you, Pete.”

**Author's Note:**

> this fic has been heavily edited. so if u feel like it’s different now, that’s bc it is :0


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